Dancing With Dragons
by Dragon MoonX
Summary: In a game of dragons, meeting. Jeweled bodies in the light. A golden wingspan, shining bright. Powerful tails in joy entwining. Playing, while the sun is shining. Oh, how wondrous is this sight.
1. Feasting On Fruitcake

**Dancing With Dragons**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs J.K. Rowling. DragonVale belongs to Backflip Studios. I own nothing but OCs.

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Chapter 1 - Feasting On Fruitcake

He awoke to the warm scent of baked goods wafting from the kitchen, the air heavy with the smell of cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg. This was his favorite way to wake up in the morning, his mouth watering as he caught a whiff of pumpkin pie.

Scabior eased the covers off and got out of bed, shivering as the cold air made contact with his bare skin. He ignored the cold and made his way downstairs, hoping that his wife had something good for him waiting on the table. And if not, well, Scabior had no problem sneaking a taste of her delicious pastries behind her back. A taste of cookie dough here, a smidgen of soup there. He was sure she wouldn't notice.

He opened the kitchen door, and was almost bowled over by the baby dragon that went scurrying across the floor. Pumpkin, Draconius' harvest moon dragon, was helping his wife in the kitchen. And when he opened the door the little dragon went running outside, its pink tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth like a puppy.

Pumpkin ducked under the flap in the front door, heading out into the garden to gather some more fruit. Scabior scratched his head, watching as the plump dragon wriggled until he finally managed to get out the doggie door. He then turned to his wife and said, "Why's 'e in such a 'urry, pet? Don't tell me you burned another burrito in 'ere."

"Oh haha. Very funny, Scabior." Draconius, who was in the process of making dragon treats, looked up from her fruity concoction and smiled. "He's my new assistant. And since you overslept this morning and weren't here to help out, I asked him to fetch me some berries from the garden."

"Wha are you making?" Scabior walked over to the counter and looked down at the bowl in her hands. There were flecks of cinnamon and ginger in the honey colored batter, with gumdrops and slices of almond adding an extra burst of flavor. "Tha looks good, sweet'eart." He reached for the bowl and got thwacked with a wooden spoon for trying to sneak a taste.

"Stay out of it, Scabior. It's Ro's recipe for dragon fruitcake. I read about it in this week's issue of Ma Goody's Holiday Baking."

"Fruitcake?" Scabior wrinkled his nose in disgust. His wife was the only person he knew that enjoyed eating fruitcake. Not even Greyback would eat those fruit filled mystery cakes, and he'd seen the werewolf devour a dead opossum they found on the side of the road. "Sorry, pet, but I think I'll pass."

The doggie door rattled as Pumpkin backed into the house, his jaws clamped shut on the handle of a large basket. Cranberries spilled out onto the floor as the little dragon pulled the basket in through the door, then went scampering across the living room and into the kitchen. He stopped beside Draconius, wagging his tail like a puppy as he looked up at her. Draconius patted him on the head, setting the bowl aside before bending down and taking the basket of berries from her precocious pet.

"Look at you. Looks like someone made a mess," said Draconius, smiling as she scratched Pumpkin under the chin. The little dragon had left a trail of cranberries across the living room, and more than a few of them were squished when the dragon accidentally stepped on them. But Draconius didn't seem to mind. Pumpkin was no different than her daughter Melody. They were both playful and did what they could to help out in the kitchen.

With a wave of her wand Draconius charmed the wooden spoon so it continued stirring the batter while she cleaned the mess off the floor. Pumpkin watched as one by one the squished berries vanished from sight. His eyes widened as the berries that were still intact, as well as the berries that were in the basket, flew through the air and into the bowl of batter.

The baby dragon made a low, gurgling noise in the back of his throat and started chasing the berries across the kitchen. He snapped at them as they went flying past, trying to catch them before they went into the batter, then landed on the counter and proceeded to shove his face in the bowl.

"Pumpkin!" Draconius exclaimed, lifting the gurgling baby off the counter. She conjured a washcloth and wiped the sticky batter off his face, chuckling as he squirmed and growled. "Good heavens, I'm glad Melody doesn't know how to fly. She'd be into everything if she had wings."

While his wife was busy with the baby dragon, Scabior spied the pumpkin pie cooling on the windowsill. The aroma from the freshly baked pie made his mouth water, and maybe, if he was lucky, he could make off with a slice before Draconius had time to notice. But before he could get close enough to summon a piece of pie from the windowsill, Draconius set Pumpkin on the floor, and the little dragon ran towards him, seized him by the leg of his pajama bottoms, and shook the plaid material like a dog.

Scabior grinned sheepishly as he looked at his wife. Draconius planted her hands on her hips, frowning as he backed out of the kitchen. "I'll show myself out then," he said, the baby dragon still growling around a mouthful of soft fabric.

Pumpkin was halfway across the kitchen floor when he heard Draconius speak his name. He paused, looking back at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, then let go of her husband's pants leg and gamboled up to Draconius. He plopped himself down on the floor at her feet, smiling and panting like a puppy. It was clear that Scabior wasn't going to sneak past his wife's pet and have a taste of her latest culinary creation, because this little dragon was more than a beloved pet. He was a babysitter for Melody, a helper in the kitchen, and a guard dog that kept Scabior from stealing food.

.oOo.

Within a short while the aroma of fruit and spices drifted from the kitchen, replacing the smell of pumpkin pie with that of freshly baked bread and seasonings. And while it smelled delicious, Scabior had no desire to eat the dragon fruitcake. He'd never known anyone who ate that stuff, and for the most part fruitcakes were a joke. You gave them to people as a gag gift, or when you didn't really like someone but wanted to get them a gift anyway. No one ate them except his wife, which is why he shouldn't have been surprised when he walked into the kitchen and saw more than six dozen fruitcakes piled high on the kitchen table.

His lips parted as he gazed at the treats in disbelief. There were so many of them! How on earth were they going to eat them all? And why did she make so many in the first place?

"Pet," Scabior said slowly. "Why is our kitchen buried alive in dragon treats?"

His wife was about to speak when the pile nearest to him suddenly collapsed. Treats toppled off the table and onto the floor as Pumpkin emerged from the pile. He had somehow managed to burrow into the mound of fruitcake and was now eating his way to freedom.

Scabior sighed and shook his head.

"Just let him go," said Draconius. "He's clearly enjoying himself. And now we have enough fruitcake for our family feast."

"No, you an Pumpkin 'ave enough fruitcake for the family feast. I won't touch those things with a ten foot broomstick."

"Why not?" asked Draconius, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I made them just for us, and for him too, of course.

"Because they taste awful an they're so 'ard you could use them as bricks." This wasn't exactly an exaggeration. Scabior had no idea how his wife could eat them because dragon fruitcakes were usually very dry and hard. The dragons didn't mind because they had sharp claws which they used for tearing apart the heavy cakes. But a regular person would have difficulty cutting the cake into slices.

This gave Scabior an idea, and to prove his point he waited until his wife was in the garden, then snuck into the kitchen and made off with several dozen fruitcakes. He took the pilfered pastries into his daughter's bedroom and began stacking them on top of each other, one by one, until a he constructed a miniature play house for his little girl.

Melody giggled and crawled into the doorway on her hands and knees, followed shortly by the baby dragon who had walked in on them and decided to lend a hand. He did this by pushing the "bricks" into place with his snout, and by encouraging Scabior with a series of playful coos and snorts. It thrilled him to no end to see Scabior building an edible house out of his favorite food. And by the time Draconius noticed that some of the treats were missing, Pumpkin had already eaten a hole in the wall big enough for him to walk through.

The little dragon was happily munching on fruitcake when Draconius discovered the edible play house. He sat on the floor next to Melody, surrounded by crumbs and bits of dried cranberries. Scabior was seated nearby, watching as his daughter picked gumdrops out of the fruitcake. It was the only part of the fruitcake she would eat, and the more she ate the more the wall started to look like a piece of swiss cheese.

"'Ello, beau'iful," said Scabior, grinning as his wife walked into the room. "Look at wha we 'ave 'ere. A designer play 'ouse made from nothing but the finest bricks in all of England."

Draconius was still for several seconds before moving towards the playhouse and peering through the window at her daughter.

"Hi, mummy!" Melody chirped. She waved to her mother, who looked up at Scabior then back at her.

"You built a house out of fruitcake?" said Draconius, her eyebrows raising towards her hairline.

Scabior nodded. "Sure did, pet. I told you those bloody fruitcakes are like bricks. So I used them to make a 'ouse for Melody an Pumpkin. An look, 'olds up just fine even with two little ones nibbling on it."

Pumpkin burped, and a thin puff of smoke wafted from his nose. Melody chuckled, plucked a gumdrop from the wall, then fed it to the baby dragon. They were happy, and as long as her babies were happy that was all that mattered. Draconius let them have their play house, but only for a little while because she didn't want them getting sick from eating too much.

"An edible playhouse." Draconius shook her head. "Honestly, Scabior. Of all the harebrained ideas you've come up with, this one takes the cake. Literally! You literally stole my fruitcakes and used them to build a house for Melody and Pumpkin." Her husband never failed to keep her entertained with his humorous, and sometimes childish, antics. And to be honest, she found the idea of an edible play house rather amusing.

Scabior leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, his hands behind his head as he tilted chair back on two legs. "You think tha's something, pet, wait until you see the gingerbread 'ouse I make for Christmas."


	2. Hot Cocoa

Chapter 2 - Hot Cocoa

Some dragons were made for the cold, for driving blizzards and frigid winds. But some dragons, such as the green and leafy plant dragons, were sensitive to the cold. There were a few cold/plant hybrids that could withstand the cold, running and frolicking through the snow like it was a playground. But most plant dragons disliked the cold, and those that were very old or very young were susceptible to frost damage from freezing winter temperatures.

As the nights grew long and the snows of winter began to fall, Draconius decided to bring her thistle and ivy dragons inside to protect them from the cold. On mild winter days the two siblings could often be found chasing each other through the yard, with Clover jumping on his younger sister Thorn, knocking her over and rolling through the damp leaves. They wanted to stay outside and enjoy what was left of the fading winter sunlight. But there was frost on the ground, and every breath they took caused a puff of steam to rise into the air.

Clover shivered, his red and orange scarf doing little to protect him from the cold. His baby sister Thorn gently nuzzled his cheek, wondering why it had gotten so cold outside. She was very young and had never experienced winter before. As far as she knew there was only fall, with brightly colored leaves and warm sunshine despite the chilling winds.

She was confused by the change in the weather, and a little bit afraid as her brother sniffled and sneezed. Thorn hoped he wasn't getting sick. The poor little ivy dragon was so cold that he was sniffling and snuffling just as much as his baby sister.

They looked up when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the path, and smiled when they saw Draconius arrive. Thorn cooed and toddled over, rubbing her leafy face against Draconius' pants leg. The edges of her jagged leaves caught on the dark fabric, rustling gently as Thorn shook her head then continued rubbing up against the young witch.

Draconius smiled and picked up the baby dragon, then headed into the enclosure to for her big brother.

Clover just sat there shivering, waiting to be picked up and brought inside. He knew his owner wouldn't let him freeze to death in the cold. Draconius had been very good about caring for him in the winter, and within a matter of minutes she picked him up and carried them into the house.

She sat them on the rug in front of the fireplace, then sat down beside them with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Clover sighed in contentment and closed his eyes, letting the heat from the fire warm his tired body. He was just about to doze off when he felt his sister crawling over him, her purple, puffy tail brushing against his face as she moved closer to their owner.

Draconius chuckled. "What are you doing, baby?" she asked, raising her mug of hot cocoa so Thorn didn't accidentally tip it over.

The little dragon looked at her, then looked back at the mug of cocoa. Thorn lifted her foot and tried pawing at the mug, her tiny toes just inches away from the warm beverage. She liked the sweet smell coming from inside the mug, and was curious about what her owner was drinking.

Clover squirmed as his sister's foot slid down the side of his face. He didn't like being stepped on, and when she tried to reposition herself atop the moving step stool that was her brother, Clover nipped at her foot, sending the baby dragon tumbling into Draconius' lap.

Draconius gasped, watching as the little one fell head over heels into her lap. When she looked at Clover the ivy dragon smiled sheepishly. He then lifted his head and peered over Draconius'a leg, trying to get a better look at his younger sibling to see if she was alright.

"Honestly, Clover. If you two aren't a sight," said Draconius. She set her cup of cocoa on the floor beside the rug, then picked up Thorn and set her on the floor.

The curious infant walked towards the cup, knelt down in front of it and sniffed it. It smelled good, like warmth and sweetness wrapped in a delicate layer of winter cheer.

"Is that what you want? Do you want some of mommy's hot cocoa?"

Thorn's lips curled into a smile. She cooed and rubbed up against her owner's leg, hoping this display of affection would get the message across.

"Alright, sweetie. Just hold on a minute and I'll get you some."

Clover watched as his owner stood up and walked into the kitchen. He was curious about this mystery drink in the mug on the floor, and when Draconius returned with a bowl of hot cocoa he sniffed the air, breathing in the warm scent of chocolate and marshmallows.

Thorn wasted no time toddling over and sticking her snout in the bowl. She lapped at the delicious cocoa, pausing to nibble on one of the marshmallows.

"Go on then," said Draconius. She smiled at Clover and nodded. "It's alright. You can have some too if you want."

Clover hesitated before standing up and walking over to the bowl. He sat down beside Thorn, lowered his head, and tasted the hot cocoa. It tasted good, like a little bit of Christmas in every delicious sip, and helped warm his insides after spending the morning outside in the cold. He felt grateful for this tasty treat, and drank deeply as his little sister slurped up the hot cocoa beside him.

The two dragons spent the evening by the fireplace, drinking hot cocoa with their owner until they got their bellies full. When the cocoa was gone they curled up next to Draconius for a long winter nap, the snow falling outside the window as the sun set on the horizon.


	3. Home For The Holidays

Chapter 3 - Home For The Holidays

Since the days of old there has been a tradition of lighting candles and placing them in the windowsill on Christmas Eve. These lights served as a beacon, lighting the way home for worn and weary travelers. That single light, shining brightly in the night, gave their friends and family members hope, hope that they would return in time for Christmas.

It was still snowing when Draconius lit the candles for her husband, the delicate flakes slowly spiraling towards the earth. She looked down when she felt something warm brush against her leg, and saw Shókó standing beside her. He stood up on his back legs, with one paw against the wall as he tried to see out the window, then dropped down on all fours and mewed, hoping she would pick him up.

Shókó was an adolescent flicker dragon, the name Shókó meaning "sparkling and glimmering" in the ancient language of the Kesh. It was a fitting name for a dragon with balls of light hovering around his antlers. Each sphere was connected by luminous strands that resembled silver spider webs, giving him the appearance of having Christmas lights dangling from his antlers.

"I know, sweetie," said Draconius, reaching down and petting the tiny dragon. "I miss Scabior too. But he'll be home soon. I hope."

She scooped him up in her arms, and Shókó licked her face, gurgling and wriggling as he smiled at her. When he turned his head to look out the window, he accidentally bumped her with his antlers, causing the silver strands to become tangled in her hair.

Draconius chuckled, her arm around him as she used her free hand to untangle the delicate threads of light. "Scabior was right," she said. "You still need time to grow into your antlers, sweetie." She sighed and looked out the window. "I can't believe they kept him working this late on Christmas Eve."

She set Shókó on the plush cushion that lined the window seat, then returned to the kitchen where she was in the process of baking cookies. The dragon watched the door close behind her, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. He knew something wasn't right. Scabior wasn't normally gone this long, and for him to out this late on Christmas Eve was very strange indeed. He didn't know that the ministry had given Scabior an important job, one that meant days or weeks tracking a group of top priority muggleborns.

Shókó turned around and sat down facing the window. The corners of his lips curled in a frown as he placed his paw against the glass. The candles were flickering beside him, but he wondered if it was enough. There was so much snow outside that maybe his owner wouldn't be able to find his way home.

What if Scabior got lost? What if he never came back? All these thoughts and more swirled around Shókó's head until he was beginning to feel sick with worry. There had to be something he could do to help bring his owner home for the holidays. And so the determined little dragon hopped off the window seat, marched towards the front door, and tried squeezing out the doggie door. Which would have been a lot easier if his antlers hadn't grown so much during the last year.

He could feel his antlers scraping against the sides of the doggie door and had back out, turn around, and exit the house backwards in order to get out the door. He then took two steps and sunk up to his chin in a layer of fluffy snow. For a moment he was still, blinking and looking around as he tried to figure out what to do. He made a noise that was halfway between a honk and a squeak, his legs working furiously to dig himself out of the snow, and after a minute of struggling he managed to climb out onto the path.

Shókó shook the snow off his antlers, then carefully made his way out into the yard. He stepped lightly, putting one foot in front of the other until he was halfway down the snow covered path that lead into the woods. When he looked up all he could see was white, with large flakes of snow drifting slowly towards the earth. There was nothing but snow for as far as the eye could see, stretching out across the horizon.

The little dragon shivered, his toes already numb from the cold. He took a deep breath and focused on putting all his magical energy into the glowing spheres that hovered around his antlers. His muscles tensed. He was trying as hard as he could, and sure enough the light grew brighter, shining like a beacon in the cold, dark night.

His lips parted in a grin. He was so proud of himself for making the light bright enough to guide Scabior home. He waited and waited, the cold spreading from toes into his legs. Eventually the lights began to dim, with each colorful sphere flickering before it went out.

Shókó was cold. He was exhausted and was beginning to lose feeling in his legs. He didn't know how long he stayed out there in the freezing cold, until his eyes closed and he collapsed in the snow. He lay there on his side, steam issuing from his nostrils as his tongue flopped out onto the snow, when suddenly there came the sound of muffled footsteps walking down the path.

"'Ello? Wha's this doing out 'ere?"

A pair of hands closed around his body, lifting him up and wrapping him in a layer of soft, warm fabric. The material was bright red in color, and smelled like a combination of pine sap and soft moss. But all that mattered was that it was warm, protecting him from the cold as someone carried him inside.

"Scabior! I'm so glad you're home!" There was a pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "What happened to him? Is he still breathing?"

"'E's breathing all righ', but 'e damn near froze to death in the snow. Don't know why 'e was out there. I came 'ome an the first thing I saw was 'is lights blazing in the dark like some sort of New Year's Eve bonfire. Good thing too because the storm is getting worse, an pretty soon we'll be up to our eyeballs in snow."

Draconius was just about to take Shókó and set him down by the fireplace when realization suddenly dawned on her. She glanced at the candles on the window seat, then looked back at the semiconscious dragon that had been wrapped in her husband's jacket.

"Poor thing. He must have been trying to guide you home with the enchanted lights on his antlers."

She carefully lifted Shókó out of his arms and placed the dragon on the floor in front of the fireplace. Within a couple minutes he began to respond, mewling softly as she rubbed his back to get the circulation flowing again.

"Do you think 'e'll be alright?" asked Scabior, looking at his wife with concern.

"He'll be fine, Scabior. There's some mild frostbite on his feet, but it's nothing a potion won't fix."

She went to retrieve a potion from the cabinet in their bedroom, then returned shortly with a shallow bowl filled with deep purple liquid. Draconius set the bowl on the floor next to Shókó, then gently patted his back and tried to coax him into drinking it. Shókó blinked his eyes, gazing at the bowl but made no effort to move. He was still very cold, and any attempt to move caused a stinging pain to spread throughout his lower extremities. It was easier to just lay there, waiting to get warm.

"Come on, baby. You need to drink this. You'll feel better, I promise."

Shókó lifted his head and Draconius slid the bowl under his chin. His lips parted as he began to lapping up the dark liquid, and within a matter of seconds he could feel warmth spreading through his body, easing the pain and restoring circulation in his legs and feet. He smiled at her, wiggling his toes as she stroked his back. Shókó was happy that his family was together for Christmas, and it was all thanks to his magical lights shining brightly in the night on Christmas Eve.


	4. Slytherin Pride

Chapter 4 - Slytherin Pride

Spring was one of Scabior's favorite seasons. It was a glorious time of resurrection, with daffodils blossoming in the garden, warmer days and flourishing trees covered in lush, emerald green leaves. Day by day he watched the leaf buds swell, his excitement growing as they opened, covering the branches with minute splashes of color.

"Honestly, Scabior. You're like a child getting all worked up over the winter holidays," said Draconius. She smiled at her husband's childish enthusiasm, watching him hug the newly hatched clover dragon against his chest. "Though I'm afraid we've got quite a ways to go before spring is officially here."

"I know, I know." Scabior adjusted his hold on the baby dragon, who was nipping at his scarf as though it were a shiny, new toy. "But look around you, pet. It looks like spring to me, wha with all the flowers an twitterin' birds."

The baby dragon bit his scarf, then grinned as Scabior looked down at him. He continued sucking and chewing on the plaid material until his owner tugged the cloth out of his mouth and moved to set him on the floor. This upset the little dragon, who started throwing a tantrum in midair.

"Pet, I think Truffles is hungry," said Scabior, holding the dragon at arm's length to avoid being struck by his legs and tail.

Draconius chuckled. "Either that or he's in love with your scarf." She took the baby dragon, laid him over her shoulder and gently patted him on the back. "You don't think it's too soon to bake some pistachio lemon bread, do you? I know Truffles really likes it, but I usually save it for a special treat during the spring equinox."

Truffles cooed, grinning and slobbering down the back of her dress. He wagged his tail back and forth, repeatedly smacking her in the face with its flowering tip.

"I think tha's a yes, pet," said Scabior, laughing as she turned her head to avoid being pummeled by her husband's precocious pet.

"Yes, what?" Draconius queried, setting the dragon on the couch. "Yes, it's too soon? Or yes, he wants me to bake something for him?" She received her answer a minute later when Truffles climbed into her lap, clamped down on her hand, and started sucking her fingers.

"At least 'e doesn't bite when 'e's 'ungry. 'E just sucks an slobbers all over everything." Scabior slid his hand under the baby dragon and lifted him off the couch, but Truffles refused to let go. "'Ello? Wha's this? Oh, would you look at tha, love. Looks like 'e's rather attached to you."

He lifted the dragon and Draconius' hand went with it, her arm rising off the couch as Truffles continued sucking on her fingers.

"Alright, pet." Scabior grinned and tapped Truffles on the head. "Come on now, you silly thing. She can't make us food if you're sucking on 'er 'and."

Truffles blinked and looked around, saliva dripping from his lips as a smile spread across his face. He was tempted to fall asleep in her lap, sucking and sleeping to pass the time until dinner. But his stomach was growling, and after a minute or two he decided bread would make a tastier snack than this woman's fingers.

He let go of his owner's wife, his eyes closing as Scabior picked him up and held him in his arms. He snuggled against the wizard's chest, listening to him talk about food and holidays. The muggles were celebrating something called St. Patrick's Day, a holiday that was well known but not often celebrated in the wizarding world.

Most magical folk chose to ignore this purely muggle holiday because they knew that St. Patrick was responsible for driving witches out of Ireland. The metaphoric snake, which was supposedly removed from the green isles during the time of St. Patrick, was actually a reference to witches, wizards and anyone else who studied the magical arts. Only muggleborns were known to celebrate this holiday, for they'd grown up with it and were accustomed to celebrating it year after year.

"I know lemon bread is best saved for a special occasion, but think about it, pet. Now's the perfect time to celebrate triumph in the face of adversity. We survived, an look 'ow strong we've grown since then."

A smile creased the corners of her lips. "You're right, Scabior. Though knowing you you'll probably take Melody and stage some form of protest against the muggles who sought to banish us."

"An you know it," said Scabior, grinning and tapping his wife on the nose. "An I can get away with it since the Dark Lord won the war." He slung the sleeping dragon over his shoulder and headed for the stairs, calling their daughter's name as he went. He placed a hand on the banister, waiting for Melody to greet him on the steps, and was almost bowled over by a large dragon that came running down the stairs.

Trinity, the celtic dragon Melody adopted when she was a child, came bounding towards him, taking the steps two at a time. He was practically tripping over his own feet by the time he reached the bottom of the staircase, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he jumped on Scabior.

This adolescent dragon was nearly three feet tall, with a long tail that swished back and forth like a puppy. His was tall enough that he could put his hands on Scabior's shoulders when he stood on his hind legs. Which meant that a flying tackle from this precocious teen could easily knock someone to the ground. But instead of falling on his behind, Scabior put his arms around the large dragon, chuckling as Trinity licked his face.

Scabior's daughter appeared at the top of the staircase. She brushed a lock of hair out of her face, her gloved hand on the banister and her other hand in her pocket. Her hand moved to cover her mouth when she saw Trinity licking her father, but she was unable to stifle the fit of laugher building in her chest, and burst out laughing when Trinity finally succeeded in knocking Scabior into the coat rack.

Coats and scarfs slid from their wooden pegs, burying Scabior, Truffles and Trinity in an avalanche of clothing. Not that Truffles seemed to mind. He climbed out of the pile of clothes, fluttered his tiny wings, and curled up in the tangled mass of fabric where he quickly fell asleep.

"Melody," said Scabior, lifting a faded coat so he could see his daughter. "I'm going out for a bit of fun while your mum bakes us a special treat. Do you want to come with me?"

"That depends. What sort of fun do you have in mind, da?"

"The usual," he answered casually, sounding very much like he was discussing plans for afternoon tea. "Tormenting mudbloods, scaring the piss out of them, tha sort of thing."

"Scabior, don't you go causing too much trouble," Draconius warned. "I know our kind is in a position of power, but there's no need to reveal the wizarding world to the muggle community."

The Snatcher pushed Trinity aside and got to his feet. "Don't worry about it, pet. I'm not stupid enough to do somethin' like tha. Just gonna 'ave a bit of fun is all. And Melody," he added, turning to glance over his shoulder at the teenaged witch. "Bring Trinity with you."

.oOo.

Scabior removed a wanted poster from his pocket, taking a good look at the woman on the crumpled piece of parchment. "Tha's 'er alright," he said, stuffing the poster in his pocket. He raised his wand, and was about to speak when he heard his daughter snickering beside him. "'Ush now!" he whispered, elbowing her in the side. "You 'ave to be quiet, Melody."

Melody clamped a hand over her mouth, still snorting and giggling as her father moved his wand in a circular motion and muttered an incantation. There was a brief flash, illuminating the darkness that clung to the forest floor, and a large snake burst from the tip of his wand.

The serpent hit the ground and looked around in confusion, then darted across the grass towards the unsuspecting witch. It didn't even realize that it was under the influence of the Imperius Curse, its world fading to black as it shot up the woman's pants.

The snake's tail could be seen peeking out from under the woman's pants leg, the long, black and yellow appendage wagging back and forth like a playful puppy. Because that's what this snake thought it was: a puppy. A very excited puppy who wanted to greet its owner. But the woman wasn't pleased with this unwelcome guest who decided to make itself at home in her pants. She bolted downhill, screaming and tearing at her clothes, until both the snake and the pair of faded, grey sweatpants lay abandoned on the ground.

She was given a moment to catch her breath, her heart racing as she leaned forward and clutched her chest. The bushes on her left shook momentarily, before branches and tree limbs came crashing down.

Trinity emerged from the bushes, with flames spewing from his gaping maw as he reared up on his hind legs and roared. He spread his golden wings, the sound of his ferocious roar drowning out the sound of laughter as Melody bend over double with her hands on her knees, laughing as the frightened witch sprinted across the forest in her underwear. The muggleborn witch had no idea that she was running into a trap, with Trinity chasing her in the direction where Scabior was hiding.

It wasn't long until Scabior caught the frightened witch. And, much to his surprise, she seemed grateful to see him. She clung to him, thinking that perhaps he was there to save her from the ferocious dragon. It wasn't until she felt the chains around her wrists that she realized things were about to get worse.


	5. What's For Dinner?

Chapter 5 - What's For Dinner?

 _Written for the Monthly Oneshot Competition on Caesar's Palace_

 _Prompt: in sickness_

The warm winds of summer were beginning to fade, with clouds gathering on the horizon, bringing with them relief from the intense heat. Shades of dusky rose mingled with pale lavender, darkening into rich indigo hues as the clouds caught the colors of the setting sun. It was a most beautiful sunset, but the beauty was lost to Scabior's wife Draconius, who was complaining about the unseasonably cold weather and how it was going to ruin her chances for a healthy crop this year.

"Relax, pet," said Scabior, who was reclining on the couch with a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. "Come on then." He leaned forward at patted the cushion beside him, smiling and motioning with a nod towards the couch. "You've got enough spells on tha garden of yours to protect it from a blizzard. So I don't think you 'ave anythin' t' worry about."

Draconius sighed, her arms around her chest as the curtains fluttered in the wind. She shivered when she felt the gentle breeze caressing her skin, and wrapped a blanket about her shoulders for warmth.

Scabior rolled his eyes and took a swing of firewhiskey. "'Onestly, love, sometimes I'd swear you're an actual dragon yourself, wha with all the shiverin' you do every time there's a cloud in the sky."

Draconius was about to speak when their Shining dragon staggered out from under the couch.

The adolescent dragon had been acting strangely, eating little and spending the majority of his time sleeping under the couch. Any attempt at getting him to eat or play failed miserably, with the young dragon hissing and growling at anyone who disturbed his rest.

"Pet," Scabior said at length, watching as the dragon took three steps and collapsed at his feet. "Stephen's looking a little bloated. 'E 'asn't been eating out of the garbage again, 'as 'e?"

Draconius looked at Stephen with concern as he rolled over onto his back, his mouth open with his tongue lolling out. She knelt beside him and placed a hand on his swollen belly, then pressed down lightly to check for tenderness in his abdomen. Stephen produced a gurgling groan and rolled onto his stomach, his legs working furiously as he tried to scurry under the couch.

"Well, would you look at tha," said Scabior, grinning in amusement as the dragon crawled under the couch. "Looks like 'e 'ates check ups just as much as I do. Probably afraid you're going to give 'im some foul tasting potion," he added, remembering the horrible elixir his wife had given him when he had a bad case of indigestion.

Draconius pounced on Stephen and managed to seize him around the waist. She eased him out from under the furniture, being careful not to hurt him in the process, and was about to set him on the couch when a fiery belch erupted from his mouth.

Scabior swore and leapt off the couch, narrowly escaping the stream of fire. When he looked back at his wife she was holding the dragon over her shoulder, rubbing and patting his back while Stephen whimpered and unleashed another fiery belch.

"I don't think he's feeling well, Scabior," said Draconius. "Maybe he ate something that didn't agree with him."

The dragon hiccupped, his insides glowing as thunder rumbled in his belly. There was a brief pause before he hiccupped again, causing a flash of lightning to surge through his chest. Each brilliant flare produced an effect similar to that of an x-ray, enabling them to view his ribs and stomach.

"Pet, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Scabior asked, pointing to the dark mass that was visible in Stephen's stomach. "It looks like 'e swallowed a pair of your socks."

"Socks?!" Draconius exclaimed, holding the dragon at arm's length.

Stephen hiccupped again, a deep flush coloring his cheeks as he grinned sheepishly at his owner. It wasn't unusual for this plump dragon to eat anything he could get his hands on, including a bar of soap, an entire stick of butter, some pumpkin seeds that were still in their shells, and an overripe piece of fruit. Which was exactly what he had eaten the day he got sick, along with a pair of Draconius' striped socks.

Scabior snorted and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried to suppress the laughter building in his chest, but failed when another loud burp caused a cluster of soap bubbles to slip past Stephen's lips.

"It's not funny! Stephen is sick because he ate a bunch of junk. And if I remember correctly, you were supposed to be watching him while I was at work, Scabior."

"I'm sorry, love," said Scabior, grinning and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "I promise I'll keep a close watch on 'im next time."

There was a slight pause followed by a low rumble of thunder. The dragon appeared to wilt before their very eyes, his ears drooping and his tail hanging limply between his legs. Draconius had only a moment to register what was happening before Stephen's jaws opened wide and he vomited down the front of Scabior's pants.

The striped socks hit the floor with a splat, followed by everything else the dragon had eaten during the past twelve hours. Scabior quickly backed away, cursing and drawing his wand as he prepared to vanish the puddle of puke.

"Not funny anymore, now is it?" asked Draconius. She held the dragon up, bringing him nose to nose with the head Snatcher. "And before you say anything about the mess he made, think about now bad he felt because you couldn't watch him like you said you would. Poor thing was probably miserable."

Stephen leaned forward and started licking Scabior's face, slathering his owner with a mixture of salvia, vomit, soap suds and melted butter.

"Okay! Alright! I'll pay more attention to 'im!" Scabior cried, pushing her away as his wife laughed in his face. "Just get tha nasty thing away from me until 'e's 'ad a bath an a breath mint!"


End file.
